I contacted Victorinox a while ago, asking whether they’d like one of their products reviewed. They were ever so kind—as one would expect from a company of their stature—and sent me TWO products.

One was the Wine Master.

It’s a beautiful tool. But there’s a problem. The Wine Master is a sophisticated wine bottle opener for cultured people.

I’m uncouth. Letting me review the Wine Master is like charging a rabid wild boar with the safekeeping of a set of fine China.

So I decided to place the Wine Master in a romantic setting, where it belongs. It’s safer there, than in my rough hands.

It’s late afternoon. The sun clings to a mountain, giving a long wink, as they saunter hand in hand down the beach. There’s no wind. Lazy waves glide onto the shore and coast back, an endless cycle of invites for toes to take a dip.

He’s carrying a large woven basket covered with a tartan blanket. The blue head of a bottle of Fattoria San Giuliano Moscato D’Asti peeks out from underneath the blanket.

When they’ve put enough distance between themselves and the nearest person, they stop and he puts down the basket.

Then he throws open the blanket and floats it down onto the sand.

He takes her hand, helps her down onto the blanket and plonks down opposite her.

He’s been waiting for this moment for a year, and now that it’s here, the excitement is sucking the moist and words from his throat.

He slides his sweaty left hand into his pants pocket and probes for the square box. It’s still there.

He had it all planned out. He’d pour them each a glass of wine, then drop the ring into her glass, hold it up high enough for her to see and propose. It was the most romantic idea Google could come up with, given his budget.

But it seemed much easier at home, drilling with a buddy. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it now. All the practice sessions seem to have washed away with the tide.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it, babes,” he asks, running a hand through his hair.

“You mean, afternoon, sweetie,” she replies. A sly curl forms in the corner of her mouth.

It floors him every time. He wishes he could frame her smile and hang copies of it on every wall in the world.

“Yes, that,” he chuckles.

He clears his throat and asks, “Darling, would you like a glass of wine?”

“I’d love a glass,” she replies and puts her hands together. “It’s been a long walk. I’m parched.”

He removes the bottle of wine from the basket and places it on the blanket.

He reaches into the basket, feeling for the bottle opener.

Nothing.

He pulls the basket closer and rummages through the contents. There are plates, cutlery, expensive cheese, crackers, humus, carrot sticks, chocolate covered strawberries (her favourite), and a bottle of water.

But no bottle opener.

His brain freezes.

His buddy never mentioned this in the drill sessions. Google didn’t warn that this might happen.

What was he going to do? He couldn’t propose now. He needed a glass filled with wine. That’s what he planned.

He’d have to postpone. Or cancel the whole thing.

He could break up with her and arrange to start dating another time. Or he could stay single for the rest of his life. Become a cat lady.

But he’s not a lady.

And he doesn’t like cats.

It’s the end. She’ll never say yes. And they’re going to fire him by the end of the week. And they’re going to steal his car. And a wrecking ball would smash into his living room. He was going to lose everything.

“Babes,” she interrupts him, “what’s the matter? Did you forget to bring a wine opener?”

She always saw right through him.

“Um,” he mumbles, “I’m sure I put it in, sweetie,” he replies with a smile and keeps rummaging.

He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t notice her reaching for her handbag. She opens it, removes something from it and holds it out towards him.

“Sweetie,” she says, “you could always use this.”

He looks up from his activity and takes the Wine Master from her hand.

He gapes at the tool.

“Where in the world did you get this, babes,” he asks.

“Oh,” she replies, “I bought it the other day, in case you forgot the bottle opener today. I wouldn’t miss your surprise proposal for anything in the world.”

He starts laughing.

He wouldn’t have to be alone after all.

The Wine Master is beautiful tool.

But is it only good for opening wine?

Victorinox punts it that way.

They even speak of the large blade as a culinary cutting device, as opposed to a do-it-all cutting blade.

If you want to restrict your Wine Master’s usage to opening wine bottles and cutting cheese, be my guest.

But if you’re like me, you’ll use the blade for all sorts of things, from cutting rope, to cutting a fat piece of steak, to stripping wire, to cutting fishing line and a host of other things.

There are many reasons to love the Wine Master.

Quality

Diamonds are forever, and the Wine Master isn’t far behind.

Victorinox’s quality is self-evident. Their products are top notch.

The Wine Master is no different. It’s a solid, well-constructed tool.

Style

There are quicker tools to use for opening a bottle of wine, as there are quicker vehicles than a Bentley.

The Wine Master, with its olive handle and smooth lines, is a Bentley.

Sharpness

It’s good to sharpen a new blade. It’s seldom that a knife is as sharp as it can be.

Price

The Wine Master sells for $162 (olive or walnut handle) from the Victorinox website.

Warranty

This, from the Victorinox website…

Victorinox AG guarantees all knives and tools to be of first class stainless steel and also guarantees a life time against any defects in material and workmanship (save for electronic components 2 years). Damage caused by normal wear and tear, misuse or abuse are not covered by this guarantee.